POETRY.
ADRIFT.
DRIFT, let it drift ; the cords are snapped that curbed it ; The rigid anchor holds that bark no more ; Thl impatient sails whose fluttering so disturbed it No longer flap beside the sombre shore.
Out of the haven, 'thwart the roadstead gleaming,
Beyond the far bright offing hath it passed ; Still of some golden goal a-dreaming, dreaming, O'er the wide deep that light bark drifts at last.
Let it drift on, nor blast nor billow checking ; No whirlpool to engulf, no rock to break ; The sea a mirror smooth for its bedecking, The sky a blue pavilion for its sake, On let it drift, the laughing mermaids weaving Fantastic rings its devious course around ; And the gay syrens mocking its believing With sweet, delusive eestacies of sound.
Yet bright skies change ; Hope's refluent tides run widely, And Fortune wrecks great wonders with her wand.
So on some wintry eve, while I am idly Counting the dusk waves on the sombre strand, Haply before me from the offing shaded A helmless bark shall drift in shattered state, Its golden name, 'The Mary,' blurred and faded, Tangle and bitter brine its only freight. J. S. D.
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